Why don't you stay?
by A Somewhat Amazing Teen
Summary: Ulfric's heart is caught by a petty whore bearing nothing but a beautiful face and not a septim to her name. Why does she torture him so? Leaving him every so often despite the pay he gives her. He only wants her company, so why not just stay?


Warning: Mentions of sexual themes. No actual sexual content.

She bore nothing but a pretty face and the corseted dress on her back. She offered herself to him and he was fully ready to refuse, but the dull, desperate look told him better.

So the true High King gave her a few septims in exchange for a few hours together.

But he kept going back. He let her sleep in his bed, let her eat before she left and let her bathe in his tub.

He gave her a sense of hope. He was her best customer.

She didn't enjoy her job. She didn't do it for her own pleasure. She did it to make a meager living in the frozen wasteland of Skyrim.

But being with Ulfric while he was winning the war, she got paid a hefty amount, a warm place to sleep and a generally full stomach.

But yet he didn't know her name.

"Juliet," she told him, her eyes fluttering open. He pulled the goose down bed cover over his waist and turned to look at her. Her dull green eyes locked with his for a moment, but she looked the other way and pulled the cover up to her chest.

Her breath evened out after a few minutes and she asked, staring at the ceiling, "Why do you pay for my services if you are a Jarl? The true High King of Skyrim?" Her voice was soft.

He didn't reply, and she thought maybe he fell asleep already, but when she looked over at him, his gaze was fixed on her with a thoughtful expression.  
She turned away, feeling silly. "You don't have to answer that."

"No, you deserve an answer... I guess it's because you need the coin more than I do."

It was a simple, legit answer. But there was a little part of her that hoped it was more than just the fact she needed the coin. Of course that meant he had a kind, genuine heart. But she wanted more than just pity.

After that he didn't see her for weeks. He went on with life. He had a rebellion to lead! He couldn't sit around thinking about pretty whores.

Days passed. Weeks passed. Months passed. He thought her to be dead.

The sons and daughters of Skyrim won the rebellion. Ulfric was named High King of Skyrim and things settled down.

Nights alone in bed, his mind drifted to the pretty whore.

Month after month passed and he had no queen. Women didn't fit into this. There was too much to be done. He had a country to rule.

Until she showed up again, baring nothing but a pretty face and a corseted dress on her back.

It was well past dark when she came in. She was stopped by guards on the inside.

"Let her pass," the High King's voice rang out.

She curtsied in front of his throne. "High King."

"Juliet."

A silence settled between them for a moment, then Ulfric stood and grabbed her small, cold hands in his. "Where have you been all these months?" he asked. "It's nearly first seed..."

"I went South-to Riften...and then up north to Dawnstar...and then to Solitude...then Markarth..." she didn't want to continue. The man was getting a hard expression that she didn't like. What did he expect? She was a whore. She was in it for the money and all the other men were in it for the sex. But he knew there was more to it for him. Those men didn't pity her. Those men didn't care what happened to her...Those men didn't think of her hours later.

She pulled her hands away from his and looked down. "I am back, though."

"That you are...There's food, and bath and bed," he told her. She shook her head.

"Thank you, but I am clean and I am not hungry."

"Then would you like to bring this upstairs?" he asked. She gave a short nod and he led her.

She had forgotten how addicted she was to his touch. He was gentler with her than most. And when he peeled off her clothing, he was surprised how his chest tightened when he saw the bruises on her skin. On her arms and waist and neck from rough hands. He kissed them gently and she wondered if this was what it was like to make love.

The hours didn't leave her feeling empty or unhappy as it did with other men.

He let her sleep in his bed rather than toss her out as most would. Why? she thought. Why is he so kind while other men toss me from door to door without a second thought? Why does the High King choose to hire me and not just pick a wife? Why does he pay me so generously while other men pay me so few?

She didn't know.

Oh how she wished she understood.

She came back night after night for him. And he never minded. He enjoyed the time he spent with her, and not just the sex, but the afterward. He enjoyed her presence and the way her chest rose and fell and the way her green eyes didn't look so dull as they fluttered open and upon him every morning.

He enjoyed watching her eat and drink her fill before they went upstairs at night. He enjoyed the way she nodded in thanks every time he handed her a coin purse.

With the money she was making, she was able to afford a new dress. Something nicer and not stitched oddly.

He noticed over the course of a few months her skin glowed brighter, her eyes had life in them and his heart sped up at the sight of her.

He also noticed the guards stopped groping at her, she bore no bruises and he was soon the only man to touch her.

She carried a dagger now.

"It's just in case," she told him when he eyed it.

And just like that, she was gone again. He knew she had enough money to survive for a while. A few months, maybe.

Her disappearance caused distraction. He was constantly thinking about her. It saddened him and kept him up late.

It was the not knowing that got to him.

He had no idea where she could be or what she was doing. Hell, Divines only know if she was dead already. It was better if she was, he decided. Case closed.

Or not. That thought only made him grieve.

"Return to me."

And that she did. Months later she returned bearing the same bruises and dull eyes she had first had when they met, baring only a pretty face and a nicer dress than their first meeting. Her dagger was gone and she hadn't a single septim to her name. She didn't even have boots. Only foot wraps. And it was snowing outside.

"I've returned," she said. He took her hands.

"That you have."

Her face was thinner, her frame was thinner. She had scars and bruises and bags under her eyes. She ate and drank to her hearts content and bathed for more than an hour, scrubbing away the grime and trying desperately to scrub away her sins.

She pleased her king and laid next to him night after night. He noticed she murmured prayers under her breath before she slept now.

"Where were you?" he asked.

"I went down south to Riften...and then up north to Dawnstar...then Solitude and Markarth..." a ghost of a smile reached her lips and her eyes locked on his. His chest tightened and he felt maybe he would Shout, but he didn't.

"It's nearly first seed," he said.

"I know."

"And will you stay?"

"I'm just a petty whore, Ulfric."

"You're more to me..." he said.

She shook her head and stood up. She started lacing her dress back up and wrapping her feet.

"Stay..." he commanded softly. She shook her head and pulled her tangled hair up in a knot, tying it with a strip of leather.

"I cannot, love..."

He nodded and pulled a coin purse that was larger than usual from his bedside table. She caught it when he tossed it to her.

"Will you be back?" he asked.

"If my king wishes."

"Return to me."


End file.
